The Tributes from District Five
by Foxfacered
Summary: The District that produces power and electricity has entered 148 girls and boys into the vicious yearly event known as the Hunger Games. This story is a telling of the 74 girls from the second they are on their metal plates, to their death. (I hope that if I enjoy writing this, that I can go on to write about the 74 boys).
1. Reesa 15th place

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**

The timer starts.

Breathing heavily, I look around and take in my surroundings. To my left, the male from District Two his name I remember as being Flavius, having taken note of him from the interviews. I took notice as only he seemed actually _happy_ to be here. The rest of us, excluding the giant of a man from District Seven and the courageous, yet tiny girl from District Nine were all weeping messes in them, yet he was so calm as he claimed he was so 'honoured' to be representing his District in the games. Even now I see him grinning, his light blond hair gleaming in the sunlight as he fixes his gaze on the supplies and weapons, the most alluring situated near to a massive, golden building.

I shake my head, I am wasting time.

Taking another glance at the clock, I realise I now have forty seconds. I tremble, grabbing the cuff of my jacket to stop myself from visually trembling I peer around once more. Behind me there is a dry and dilapidated looking forest, offering limited safety, and behind the building there is a wide expanse of scrubland reminiscent of the desert that surrounds my District.

I chance another look at the timer. Twenty two seconds, I take another deep, shuddering breath and look towards the supplies in the mouth of the building. Setting my sights on a brown backpack laying not too far from the entrance I get myself into position to run.

I take these last few seconds to eye the girl to my right. I think she is the one from District Eight, one of the many who screamed and cried as they were escorted onto the stage. She is making no attempt to stop herself from shaking and is openly weeping; with her small height and wide eyes, she cannot be older than fourteen.

The the vocal countdown begins. I bite my lip hard, feeling the metallic tinge of blood in my mouth.

No.

Focus.

Breath in.

Breath out.

I'm not ready for this, _I'm not ready_, I'm not r-

Most tributes run from their plates towards the building with the supplies. I missed the start, I curse and then sprint as fast as I can towards the fray.

My lungs are burning, my heart pounding as I scoop up a smaller backpack on the way.

Bad idea.

The backpack stopped me from getting to the building before most of the others, now they are armed with a selection of cruel looking and sharp weapons. I stop for a second or two, catching my breath. Two seconds, that's all it takes for the bloodshed to start.

Blood curdling screams and pleads for mercy ring out from all around me, distracting me as I make the decision to grab a knife and get out of here. I was counting on their being more restraint, so I could just sprint in and take some items before sprinting out. Shaking my head I take a deep breath, and then notice fleetingly that for the past five seconds I have just been standing still in horror, I jump out of my stupor and take a leap for the knife rack, which is already half empty and splattered with blood stains.

I grab a short, curved knife from the rack and turn to flee. My head is aching, and my hands are trembling, I don't hesitate as I run, noticing with an occupied mind that I'm passing the girl from District Eight's mutilated body; chest cavity torn open, her face frozen in the pain she felt as she breathed her last breath. No, I don't notice her and I continue to run back the way I came; to the forest.

Or atleast that was what I planned, a poorly aimed dagger hit my right leg and I fall to the ground in agony, about three meters away from the District Eight girls corpse.

_Greeta_

That was her name. I look at her again, chestnut hair with strands of blond in it covering the ground next to her, spilling onto it like the blood that poured out of her wound. Her eyes, a warm honey brown are open and unblinking, the tracts of the tears she shed still visible.

I am disrupted by the agony in my leg. I let out a screech and coil my arms around it, the blood warm and sticky on my clammy hands. I attempt to move myself away from the building, dropping my backpack in my efforts to drag myself along the grassy field. I grind my teeth and slowly, using my left leg and both hands as well as a lot of effort shakily get to my feet; and then I notice something.

Most of the screams have stopped, I look around, with dread. Bodies litter the ground, blood flowing like a fountain into the grass surrounding them. I count atleast eight, but I don't have much time to check. My heart leaps into my throat as Flavius slowly makes his way towards me like a predator about to pounce upon a small animal. He has no emotion on his face and grips a silver spear tightly in his hand.

"No, please! I have to get home to Teffa, no! Please... Have you no pity? For the love of G-..."

I stop as the spear impales itself into my stomach, letting out a long moan as I drag out the metal shaft, my eyes are transfixed as I stare down at the wound it leaves in my body. I fall to the ground, groaning as I hit my head. I immediately put my hands to the wound in order to put pressure on it but it's no use. The blood is coming too fast for me to staunch it.

I struggle to breath, making a wheezing choking sound as blood begins to pour from my mouth. I think how my parents must be seeing this, turning away from the screen as they cannot bear to watch their oldest daughter die.

"I... I'm s-... I'm sorry..."

I'm sorry. For Teffa, and Margret, Aubrin and Leena.

I list off the names until I can't anymore, my brain too fogged by the loss of blood to recall them.

My breath becomes shallower now. I know this is the end.

My end.

My eyes find the sky, watching the white, puffy clouds in my final moments. I gasp, I'm not ready to leave yet, there are so many things I never had- and never will now.

My last coherent thought is that this is so _unfair_. Why must I be punished? I did nothing; I hid during the rebellion. And now... I lay here, just fourteen years old. My live is over before I even had a chance to begin it. My blood pools onto the ground beneath me and my head lolls back to the side, my eyes attempting to focus on the grass blades but to no avail.

The blood still pours from my stomach, I can feel it running onto my hands, a river of blood. The end is coming closer now, it hurts to breath. It hurts everywhere, I let out a strangled sob, and then.

Nothing.


	2. Tesla 10th place

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**

I breathe shakily then open my eyes, straining to see the amount of seconds I have left.

Fifty five.

I look behind me, knowing my only chance to survive the first night of the games is to hide from the stronger tributes who will comb the surrounding areas after the battle at what the Capitol call the cornucopia is fought.

I know not to run into the fighting at the centre and make the same mistake that Reesa, the girl from our District in the first games did. I barely knew her, she lived in another area of the urban hive but I still remember the face of Flavius as he ran her through brutally with the spear he also forced into two other unsuspecting tributes. Closing my eyes I can picture his self satisfied face as he gave a very superficial and cheery speech on how thankful he was to District Five for their tributes. I doubt he meant a word of it.

I take a shaky breath and begin to take proper notice of my surroundings, one of the first things I notice is the humidity.

The air itself appears to be moist and cloying, a large difference to the arid air and hot sun that surround my own District. It takes a while to get used to the sensation of breathing in this wet air, while I acclimatise I look to the tributes surrounding me.

To my right is the strong looking girl from District Seven with the mousy brown hair and the quiet yet firm voice in the interviews, eyes set on an axe balanced against the wall of the cornucopia. To my left is the small boy from District One who scarcely said anything during the interviews and what he did had to be coaxed out by the host, Augustus Flickerman which ended up as a stuttering mess.

I nod to myself and chance another look at the timer.

Thirty eight.

I look behind me and see a wide expanse of thick trees coloured a verdant green, with soft animal calls and birds chirping coming from deep within. It would be a risk with the animals, but it would be my best hope as the lake to the right of the cornucopia and the prairie to the left and behind are either too open or will attract too many tributes.

I take another deep breath, sucking in a lungful of the wet air as it clings to my throat. I attempt not to panic, as I know if I do that is what will get me killed. Like it got Reesa killed, if she hadn't panicked and hesitated she would have been away from the cornucopia and in the woodland before Flavius had a chance to essentially gut her.

Twenty two seconds left.

I eye what I can quickly dash to and grasp; a brown backpack, a bag of green apples, an empty canteen and some rope. I think if I can grab a few of the things in my immediate vicinity and flee to the jungle behind me I can survive in there for a while, like the boy from District Nine did. Using this method he managed to get into the final eight with a training score of three. Of course on the second last day of the Games he was hacked to death with a machete by the District Two girl, however I shall cross that bridge when I reach it.

Seventeen seconds.

I breath deeply, don't panic; that's what got Reesa gutted.

_Oh, that was awful._

And then with our male tribute named Watt, being viciously stabbed in the back repeatedly by the girl from District Four.

I breath deeply, eyeing a dagger glinting in the light on the rack situated at the outside of the cornucopia. The dagger is really my only hope, they were the only thing weapon I could use and even then I was mediocre at it; only achieving a five in my training score.

I shake my head. No. Grab the pack, canteen and apples then run as fast as you can to the expanse of jungle behind you.

I nod my head hesitantly, most likely appearing rather strange on the screens, I nervously thumb my

honey blonde braid as the verbal countdown begins before dropping it quickly as if it were an old high voltage cable.

Five seconds.

I focus on the nearest object, the apples and get into a sprinting position.

Three...

Two...

One...

I dash from my plate as fast as I can, scooping up the apples as quickly as possible without coming to a halt and then I run forwards a few feet to grab the backpack. I look to my right in order to catch a view of the canteen and then lunge towards it, feebly elbowing the girl from District Twelve out of my way as she moved in on the general area. I take the canteen then dash back a few feet, watching her run after some other items and then fleeing back to the jungle.

The screams have started now, the faster and stronger tributes having reached the cornucopia. I watch just in time to see the District Seven boy reaching for an axe, being tripped by the boy from District Four and then stabbed through the chest with a sharp, curved sword.

I turn my back on the screams then, fleeing to the jungle and angling myself so that I'm not following the girl from District Twelves path.

I run as fast as I can into the undergrowth, the thickness of the trees giving me a surprising amount of cover as I dash in a horizontal line so as to make sure I don't run into Twelve's path. My muscles ache and I slow down to a jog, which I manage to keep up for another ten minutes or so; living in District Five makes it hard to build up any sort of stamina.

After the ten minutes of running I come to a halt, catching my breath for a few minutes. I take the rest to place the apples in my backpack, not having time to see what else is in it and putting my canteen in the side of the backpack where there's a pouch. The screams and shouts from the cornucopia have halted now, whether I have outran them or it's over I'm unsure of. I place the backpack on my back, look around once or twice and then begin to move again.

I start walking at a more leisurely pace, although it is fairly quickly. My throat is already parched from the small amount of running I've done, but it would have been worse if I had been running in more arid air. With this in mind, as I walk I look around for signs of water the animal calls I heard when at the cornucopia and still hear now means there must be some source of water somewhere.

My thoughts are interrupted by the start of the cannons, I jump at first and then whirl around counting the number of cannons. I count twelve and I smile softly, although it is sad for their families another dead tribute means another step closer to home.

I stumble around for hours, breathing deeply and hurriedly as I begin to panic. The girl from District Three and the District Ten boy from last year both died from dehydration, having being unable to find another water source that other, stronger tributes had not been using.

The cornucopia. There was a shimmering blue lake there, from what I remember.

I halt and look back the way I came, I _could _sneak back to the cornucopia and use the lake there, it would be very dangerous but I'm fairly sure the stronger tributes will be hunting for the weaker ones, like me now. This means that they are more likely to be in this jungle than at the lake.

I chew my lip before nodding my head and setting my jaw.

I begin walking back the way I came, taking my braid again and playing with it as I do when I am nervous. All the while while I'm walking I listen carefully, although the constant twittering of birds makes it hard to pick out individual noises.

I jog back as stealthily as I can, which when I think about it is about as stealthy as one of District Ten's cows running through District Five's main hydroelectric dam.

As I reach towards the break in the jungle where the cornucopia after jogging for about forty minutes I slow down, quietly putting my left foot in front of my right, so that I am half in and half out of the jungle. I look to the right of the cornucopia and eye the beautiful turquoise waters of the lake and disappear into the jungle once more.

I reason that, although it is longer it would be safer in the jungle rather than the grassland that surrounds the cornucopia as in the grassland there is nowhere to hide and I would be visible from the other side of the jungle as well as the prairie. Also, while I'm in the jungle I can refrain from being heard due to the loud chattering of the birds.

I walk along the edge of the jungle, unable to be seen but I'm also able to see the lake so that I know which path to take. I take extra care around parts of the jungle that have bent and twisted plants, as it could mean a tribute has gone in that direction.

After around an hour of skulking through the trees I make it to the lake. I get as close to the water as I can without leaving the safety of the jungle, and then prepare my canteen. As soon as I do that I dart to the waters edge and fill my canteen to the brim, doing the top again and sprinting back to the cover of the jungle. I take off my backpack and rifle through it, hoping that within it is some iodine, having learned the dangers of untreated water in the training centre.

I appear to have some luck, there being a small bottle of iodine inside the backpack, I quickly unscrew the top and place in a couple of drops before sealing up both the top and the iodine and then placing them carefully into my backpack. After doing this I set off to find a tree to stay in, much like the boy from District Nine did in the previous games.

I find a tree with low enough branches but has enough cover to conceal the upper branches from the ground. I grip one of the lower branches and pull myself up, then repeating the same thing and doing it again. Once I find a rhythm it is marginally easier, although it is definitely draining my energy and making me thirst for water more.

After around thirty minutes of tree climbing, during which I had to stop frequently I reach a high enough position that I can see the sky from the trees canopy. Once I climb out onto a thick and sturdy branch I sit there, holding onto the trunk for balancing and take out my backpack. I fiddle with the zipper and take out the canteen, unscrewing the cap and drinking around half of it greedily.

It quenches my thirst, however I know it will soon return. I decide to take this lull in activity to search around my backpack and see what I gained at the cornucopia.

I am just placing the canteen by my side when I hear the cannon boom, signalling the death of another tribute. Thirteen gone, meaning that already half of the tributes have been killed. I feel a pang of sadness for my own District partner, Static. I know it is foolish for me to hope that he survived due to him being a short twelve year old with barely any muscle who scored a two in the training scores. I sigh and lean my head back against the trunk.

It takes me a minute to leave my stupor. I shake my head vigorously, my now messy braid swishing from two and fro as I look into my backpack. I pull out the things as I see them; a smaller brown canteen, a needle, a small yet warm looking blanket and a packet of dried fruit. I frown at my spoils, I was hoping for some weapons. Although the dried fruit with the apples as well as now having two canteens means I can stay hidden up in trees for longer then I had originally hoped for.

I close my eyes only to be woken by what seems like minutes later although in actuality it is most likely hours by the Capitol's anthem music playing. I shiver; the gamemakers must have altered the temperatures to make it colder at night so I reach for my blanket and wrap myself in it. Satisfied, I look to the sky to see the tributes who died, I find myself hoping foolishly that most of the stronger ones are dead.

The first face I see in the sky is the District One boy, the small child who stood on the plate next to me. He's followed by both of the tributes from District Three, with them both having grey and pallid skin and the same dark curly hair they could be related. The girl looks young too, but older than the District One boy. Next comes Static, and I blink away tears. I barely knew him, but he was kind during training and he was also a connection to home but we both knew that he didn't have much of a chance of winning. Following him comes the girl from District Six whose name I vaguely remember as being something along the lines of Arva, her vibrant red hair stood out from the moment she stood on the stage at the Reaping and led me to remembering her interview as well. She came across as being very intelligent as well as being rather sneaky, so it comes as quite a shock that she died on day one. The boy from District Seven, whose death I had already witnessed was dead, as well as both of the tributes from District Eight who both also had the same hair and skin tone; being fairly pallid with chestnut brown hair. The girls from Districts Nine and Ten were also dead, as well as both of the tributes from District Eleven and the small, scrawny fourteen year old from District Twelve. I guess the girl who ran into the forest made it.

I purse my lips and pack everything exceeding my blanket it into my backpack which I then put on my back, but not before taking a swig of my canteen which I then place in its pouch. I settle myself as comfortably as I can and attempting not to remember that by being atleast twenty feet up if I fall now would be certain death.

I wake up to a pain in my stomach. A pain I know too well. Hunger. I huff and then take my backpack and unzip it, retrieving an apple which I am then content to munch on for the next few minutes, core and all. The juice from the apple also acts to soothe my throat, which until then was feeling as dry as it was the night before. I shudder at the thought of slowly dying from dehydration, the headaches, the hallucinations and the pain of your throat as your body begs for water. Although, is that really worse than the other option? Being hacked to death by the monster of a boy from District Four?

I sigh, that was not a nice thought to begin my day with. I take my canteen and take a sip from it and looking down the tree at the branches, assessing my route down. I place the backpack on my back and begin the long descent down, which is not as tiring as yesterday, after I miraculously got a good rest last night.

It takes around twenty minutes to get down, which is shorter than it took to get up, or maybe I'm just learning the route better. I smirks slightly at the thought and skulk my way in the direction of the lake while I quietly taking both of my canteens out of my backpack and unscrewing the lid.

Once I reach the jungles edge I peer around for any tributes, although it's unlikely there are any still so close to the cornucopia, from what I learnt last year most of the tributes fled as far as they could while some of the stronger and less moral ones picked them off one by one; if dehydration hadn't first.

Now that I'm certain it's safe I dart towards the lake and quickly fill up both of my water canteens as much as I can, seal the lid back on and place them in my backpack, zipping it up as I flee. Nearing the tree I put the backpack onto my back and climb up as quickly as I can. I reach my branch after around twenty five minutes, the adrenaline and fear in my system pushing me to get there as quick as I possibly can.

Once there I take my backpack off of my back and take out both of the canteens and the iodine bottle. I place the drops of iodine in the canteens, reseal them and then place the iodine into my backpack. Waiting the thirty minutes requires is almost painful, in the end I surrender and munch on another apple to pass the time, looking into the apple bag it seems I have three apples left. The apples and the dried fruit will allow me to eat comfortably for two or three days, although I should probably think about rationing.

I am disrupted by my thoughts by the boom of the cannon, the hovercraft that comes to pick them up stopping only twenty metres to the left of my tree, this allows me to see the body it picks up, it's female, having blond hair meaning it could either be the girl from District Twelve or the girl from District One. The choices make me convinced that it's the girl from Twelve who's gone.

After around a minute it only comes to my mind that twenty metres isn't very far at all. In fact, it's rather close. With that in mind I draw my blanket close to me with wide eyes, attempting to look down and possibly see the assailant however the leaves of the tree blocks me.

After hours of being scared I have a feeling I thought I'd never have during the Hunger Games. Boredness. Yes, I'm scared for my life but sitting in a tree isn't very entertaining. And if _I'm_ bored, It means that most likely that the Capitol audience is bored with me too. And that's not a very good thing. That's a very bad thing, terrible even.

If I stay in this tree too long, they'll most likely force me out of it using natural disasters or maybe one of their mutations they're so fond of.

I groan and hit my head rather forcefully against the trunk of the tree, closing my eyes and willing myself to sleep. In my dreams I'm not in the games. In my dreams I'm just Tesla who has wanted to work at the hydroelectric dam since the age of thirteen. Just Tesla who gets A's in the subjects that count; physics and maths. Just Tesla who laughs with her friends behind Current Matthews' back because she failed her simple physics practical.

My dreams are so convincing that when I get up the next morning, I am honestly shocked to wake up laying in a hard, rough tree. I grunt and, opening my backpack take several large gulps of water, in fact I end up drinking the whole canteen. And then I get started on the second one, I have my own water source and I have to move out today anyway, so I may as well be hydrated.

I make my way down the tree with everything in my backpack making it heavier than usual, delaying my time by several minutes. I trudge towards the lake wearily, although I'm still on the lookout for other tributes. I manage to stop myself from walking out, and it's a good thing I did.

The boy from District Two is currently in deep conversation around fifteen metres away with the blond from District One which proves my hypothesis that Twelve is dead correct after I missed the faces in the sky last night. I cannot make out what they're saying but it's too risky to dart to the lake today, I eye for the District Two's District partner as in the last games they teamed up, only for him to gut her in the final three. To my surprise and horror I spot the District Four boy and the District Two girl bathing in the lake.

I freeze at this, what's happening? Tributes outside of their Districts don't ally with others in the games. These tributes should be killing each other, making it easier for me to swoop in later and win. This alliance has thrown a spanner in my works, how can I win against these monsters. They seem to all be the strongest ones in the game, I wonder if the small District One boy was offered a place.

I take one last look at the lake and turn to leave. Snapping on a fallen branch rather loudly as I do so. One's green eyes snap towards where I'm standing and her otherwise pretty face turns into one of malice and excitement.

_Oh no._

I turn tail and flee as fast as I can, running through the jungle like a coyote would around the solar power sheets; dodging and twisting while I attempting to evade being seen. It takes me a while to realise that I'm not being chased. Come to think of it, am I sure they even saw me? Not really. With this information I slow my pace in order to soothe my aching lungs.

I jog into a clearing and hoarsely breathe sigh of relief. I have no idea how I managed to get out of that one unscathed, with a full backpack too. I am grinning at myself out of my pure luck when I hear the quiet chirping of birds that steadily grow louder.

I turn around, happy to find some creatures who aren't wanting to kill me for once in the Games.

It's as I turn around that I realise my mistake, no birds should be those colours. They're an assortment of flaming red, candy pink, acid green and neon yellow. On closer inspection they have much sharper beaks than normal, almost like tiny needles. They buzz towards me, seemingly harmless but I step away from them as quick as I can, turning my head quickly, making parts of my braid fall out.

I break into a run, fleeing a horde of vibrant birds that are most obviously Capitol mutations. People are probably covering their children's eyes right about now, shielding them from the horrors of what is about to come.

I am fast, is what I tell myself as a pep talk as I run.

I am fast, yes. These are faster.

I shriek in pain as the first beak plunges into my arm, swatting away the perpetrator; an acid green bird. This only slows me down and allows another, neon yellow bird to impale my shoulder. I screech again, beginning to panic as another bird bears down upon me. The yellow bird doesn't seem to have had enough and it goes for my face, pecking my nose and cheeks as I screech and bat my arms around it. I succeed in getting the yellow one off of me, but by that time the next bird is only a couple of metres away.

I begin to flee again, screaming as I do so. At this point I don't care who hears, just get these things away from me. My breathe comes out hoarse and ragged from the screaming, my lungs are burning as if they're on fire. I attempt forget the pain as much as I can and begin to persevere in order to flee.

Just not fast enough.

The birds catch up with me, I feel the new pain at around the same time.

One impales me at the back of my thigh, another in my other shoulder, and one in the small of my back where my backpack doesn't protect me. It's as I turn to scream that one digs it's beak deep into my throat, making it more of a gargle than a scream. It is because of the new collection of wounds that I fall to the ground, clutching my neck and crying.

Crying because this is just _not fair_.

It's not fair that I was reaped.

It's not fair that these birds were set upon me.

It's just not fair.

I can see now, why when me and my friends were little and we whined to our teacher that she merely told us 'life isn't fair'. It's not. If life was fair I would live to see my seventeenth birthday in a weeks time, I would marry a man who loved me and provided for me. We would have three children, two boys and girl. I would work on the hydroelectric dam and he would work on the wind farms, together we'd earn enough to get by and...

I see it, the life that I could have had, should have had. I see the life that now I will never have.

I breathe shakily, clutching my throat as if that alone will staunch the blood and allow me to live the life that should have been.

But it doesn't, I can slowly feel myself losing consciousness, never to have that life. I will never hug my sister again, never meet the man of my dreams, never have three children; two boys and a girl. I will never see my friends again, or be mean about Current Matthews.

I hope she knew I never meant it; never meant the horrible things I said and the worse things I giggled at. Maybe she will have the life I should have had... Working on the hydroelectric plant, two boys, one girl.

Maybe...

It's hard to focus now, my time is coming.

I...

I give on last gasp, and then my head rolls to the side and my arms relax upon my neck. I breath no more.

Never to have the life I could've and should've had, only destined to die before reaching my seventeenth year.


	3. Mara 21st place

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**

I can feel my blood pounding.

I release a breath I didn't know I had been holding, my eyes flutter against the bright and warm sunlight that beats down upon my wetsuit clad body.

I immediately look to the cornucopia, my eyes catching a piece of bronze wire that is glittering in the sunlight. It appears to be around thirty feet away, dangerously close to the collection of swords, knives, spears and axes at the mouth of the cornucopia.

_With that coil I could create a-_

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear a quiet, breathy gasp to my right and turn my head towards the sound quickly, analyzing my fellow tribute.

My first thought is that he is taller by me than at least a foot and which is quickly followed by the realization that he is not gasping: he's laughing. It takes me several seconds to figure it out, he is the male tribute from District Four and he is laughing because he has a _chance_.

Behind me and stretching for as far as the eye can see there is a clear expanse of water with one pathway of sand that reaches towards the horizon. I gaze at it in abject horror before looking to what is beyond the cornucopia, scrub land. There is no shelter in sight.

I shake my head to banish the beginnings of hysteria, and fix my eyes on the countdown clock.

_Twenty seven seconds._

I look to my right again and see the boy grinning dangerously at the weapons, his eyes gaining a predatory glint in them as he looks at this years selection of tributes. His eyes fix one the little twelve year old boy from District Three and they soften marginally before he moves on to the tribute next to him, the heavily muscled girl from District Seven and his gaze hardens once more, eyeing her like a hunter does prey.

_Eighteen seconds._

In these last few seconds I look around the arena for my District partner, Ohm. I find him easily enough, his tall and lanky figure mixed with his bright carrot orange hair and freckled face make him exceedingly easy to spot. He appears to be fixated on the strand of beach behind us, his back turned to the cornucopia as he maneuvers into a sprinting position.

I chew my lips nervously, my eyes darting from left to right as I attempt to judge how fast the tributes to my direct left and right will take to get to the cornucopia. I silently assume that the District Four male is quick due to his lean yet muscly body build as well as his score which I can remember now being eight or nine.

Mine was a five.

To my left the small boy from District Twelve also appears to be focused on the cornucopia, but I quickly assess that he is not much of a threat. He breathes deeply and often and merely looks like his ashen skin has been stretched over a skeletal model.

_Five._

_Four._

I remind myself to breath, I fix my eyes on the copper coil and take my last precious seconds to shift myself into a running position. My eyes harden with determination and I inhale deeply.

_One. _

I sprint as fast as is physically possible for me towards the cornucopia, my muscles almost screaming due to being used so little. I manage to quickly out strip the boy from District Twelve as I make my way closer towards my target.

District Four is ahead of me, I can see his bronze, curly hair about three feet to my left, he is in front of me by around six feet. I cannot let him get there first otherwise I shall be speared like poor Reesa from two years ago or impaled like Yew, the boy from District Seven the year after.

I grunt as I push myself to give an extra burst of speed, my muscles screaming protest.

I shall not fail like Reesa or Tesla did. I will return home, I will return back to my family. Little Annie who is not really so little any more and mother and father.

I promised them I would win, so win is what I will do.

My throat is burning with exertion and my eyes are watering as I push myself further towards the cornucopia. However he still manages to reach it first, grabbing a metallic silver spear and throws it without so much as looking at the muscled boy from Two, who dodges spectacularly and rolls to his left to grab a broadsword.

I turn my back on their fierce duel, hoping it will buy me more time. I reach the copper coil as the rest of the tributes reach the cornucopia, with the first tributes to be injured joining together to make a cacophony of various sounds.

I grab the coil, my hands holding onto it so tightly that they hurt. I move to flee but my eyes fall on a small dagger perched on the wall a further ten feet into the cornucopia.

_I can make that.._

With a dagger I can defend myself from mutations better, although several tributes from last year had weapons yet still fell prey to the multi-colored hummingbirds. With this though I can have a better chance of surviving. Maybe being able to defend myself against another tribute.

I look to my left to see the District Ten girl cut down with an ax thrown by the large boy from District Seven. It impales her rib cage with a smack and she is thrown by the force of the blow onto her back the blood pooling around her body as she lays there not moving.

Perhaps not.

I make the decision to run to my right, narrowly missing the boy from District Six's flailing body, a steady trickle of blood streaming out of his nose.

I must have moved too far out of the way because the next thing I know is that I'm airborne

I scream the word ''No!'' as I make a landing with causes me to have a sharp pain in my left knee and lower leg.

I bite my lip to stop me from crying out more or to draw more attention to myself as I attempt to shuffle backwards away from the melee on my hands and knees. The count of bodies grows steadily higher as I shuffle away with three bodies laying on the ground and several more prone and injured.

My effort to not draw attention to myself is in vain. The boy from District Two looks at me, grabs a polished sword and sprints towards me.

I scream. A high, shrieking sound akin to a young child wailing.

I am still screaming when he embeds deep into my stomach, I can feel it going all the way through it and out the other side.

My scream dies away into a wheezing moan which then turns into a quiet gurgle as I fight for breath. He forcefully kicks me, pulling his sword out of my body and I fall onto my side while I gasp for air.

_No. This isn't happening, it's too soon!_

_I said I would win!  
_

_I said I would win..._

_I said I wou-..._

My last breath hitches and my body stops all movement, my glassy eyes staring listlessly at the superficial sky above me.


	4. Iris 18th place

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**

The arena is covered in a large amount of tall grasses, they come up to my thigh and are swaying gently in the artificial breeze. I recognize several of them from the edible plants section at the training center and nod to myself, allowing a small smile to form on my face.

The smile disappears as soon as I remember where I am.

My breathing quickens as I look around, it is only now that I am in the arena that I notice how dreadfully _short_ I am. The grasses reach to my thigh, and on most other tributes only reach their upper calf.

Every single tribute has more muscle tone on their arms than me- even the rats from District Twelve!

I chew my lip and look at the timer, forty three seconds.

I look to the tributes surrounding me, the physically imposing boy who gained a seven in the training scores from District Ten is on my left. His tanned skin almost seems to blend in with the beige colour of the grasses and his strong jaw is set, looking towards the cornucopia at the section with the rope. His chocolate brown eyes briefly catch mine and I look down nervously, hoping that this doesn't make me a bigger target and look to the tribute on the right.

District Eleven. His face is twisted into a grin, his eyes dark brown eyes sparkling with glee as he surveys the arena.

My heart sinks. District Eleven have an unfair advantage, they do every year. They are able to just flee from the cornucopia and hide out, securing them a place in the final eight. Almost every tribute from Eleven has done that, living off the land and securing them a few more days. Just enough time for the people in their District to get hopeful and then being promptly slaughtered in some of the most gruesome ways I have ever seen in the whole three years of the games.

I recoil at the memories and tear my eyes back to the countdown.

_Thirty three seconds._

I look around, attempting to see if there are any less valuable goods nearer to me but the grasses hide them.

I let out a shaky breath I will have to go into the bloodbath. The one thing my escort told me not to do. Normally the middle districts can avoid this dilemma from taking some of the items closest to us and fleeing. Me and the rest of the District Five's tributes cannot survive off the land, we work in offices and power plants and not in the fields.

_Sorry Minerva._

I look over the rest of the tributes and three to my left is Mizar, the boy from District Nine, looking like it's parcel day which I would do too because District Nine manufactures grains. The outlying districts have the advantage this year, despite the group of 'careers' as they are now known.

I turn my gaze towards the cornucopia, figuring out my best course of action.

My best bet is to hide in the undergrowth and wait for the other tributes to be occupied then running in and grabbing what I can before fleeing the way I came and hiding in the undergrowth.

I take another look at the countdown and let out a deep breath I didn't know I had been holding.

_Twelve seconds._

The spoken countdown starts, and I listen to it with one ear as I crouch myself into a running position.

As soon as the gong sounds, I am off and running, only to be considerably slowed.

There was one variable I forgot to think of: the height of the grass affecting my sprinting speed.

The rest of the tributes seem to be able to move at a moderate pace and are over halfway towards the cornucopia whereas I have to put a lot of effort into moving, pushing the grasses out of my way as I trudge my way towards them.

I am only halfway towards the cornucopia when the first screams start, I force myself to move a few feet closer and then dive into the undergrowth, crawling my way towards the sound of the screams.

It takes me around two minutes to reach a break in the grass where the cornucopia stands in a lush green meadow filled with wildflowers of different hues. What detracts from its beauty however, is the dashes of crimson red that stain the ground.

Looking around, I can already see a couple of tributes on the floor and unmoving, while others still battle on.

My eyes settle upon a bright red backpack with a water canteen situated a few feet left of it, and a few feet beyond that is a bag of shiny red apples.

I look to my left and see the District Eight boy, Dan and the District One girl, Radiance attacking each other fiercely with tomahawks. To my right there is the small underweight girl from District Twelve being brutally slashed with a sword by the girl with curly blonde hair from District Six.

I wait for the District Six girl to move away from my general location and check to see that Dan and Radiance are still fighting before dashing into the middle of the cornucopia, hurriedly grabbing the backpack and swinging it onto my shoulders.

I run towards the canteen and snatch it up hurriedly and then twist my direction to sprint in the direction of the apples. I reach them at the same time the boy from District Three does and stretch my arms out to grab them. He does at the same time and a bitter game of tug-of-war begins, his superior strength eventually winning out as he shoves me towards the ground.

I slam to the ground, creating an audible 'thwack!'.

The force with which I had fallen winds me, and I lay in the meadow for a few seconds attempting to catch my breath before getting to my feet and running blindly towards the nearest item.

It is a torch.

I reach out to grab it, not noticing Radiance, having killed Dan coming up behind me.

As I duck down to snatch it, a tomahawk flies through the air and embeds itself into a patch of purple wildflowers which are positioned dangerously close to where my head was.

I make a quick decision and twist around, forgetting for the moment about the torch and see Radiance racing towards me with yet another tomahawk in hand.

I let out a gasp and run towards the other side of the cornucopia, strands of my caramel hair whipping my face painfully as I move to dash into the undergrowth.

I am within several meters of the grass when I am shoved to the right by what feels like a solid concrete wall.

It is not a wall, however: it's the boy from District One, who before I can think is on me.

I barely have time to let out a tortured, 'No!' before he roughly forces his spear into my chest cavity.

He grins viciously at me and lets out a 'whoop' of victory before pulling his spear out of me and returning to the bloodbath.

I let out a breathy screech, as I pant in an attempt to breathe more air in.

It is in vain however, I can feel my eyes closing and my already shallow breaths becoming more laboured.

_I just want to go home._

If I concentrate really hard I can almost smell my mother's homemade apple pie which we sometimes on special occasions pour cream on. I can almost taste it on my lips, I can feel tears leaving my eyes and running down my face but I forget about that.

I forget where I am, even if it's just for a little while. I fill my mind with memories, almost like my life is flashing before my eyes.

I focus on picturing my little nine year old sister, Tyra. Her wide, bright amber eyes and tawny coloured hair. I remember how she used to jump on me in the morning to get me to wake up so I could work get to my job on time at the solar panels field. I used to call her my little alarm clock.

Her favourite fruit is apples. Her favourite colour is red. No, green.

_I can't rememb-..._

_I..._


	5. Masie 11th place

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**

The air is wet.

As I breathe in it clings to the back of my throat and I can already feel small beads of sweat beginning to form on my face.

My clothing doesn't help either, it clings to me tightly with the dark blue fabric a stark contrast to the lush and vibrant greenery that surrounds me.

I risk catching a glance at the clock, to see how many seconds I have left to form a plan.

_Forty five seconds._

I release a shuddering breath and set my eyes directly onto the shiny golden building.

At the mouth of it are a plethora of weapons, similar to all the previous years. Dark green backpacks are scattered within a radius of five feet.. Closer to me than the backpacks are sleeping bags, tents and some sort of metal mechanism. Even nearer to me is a selection of food; bread, apples, cheese and dried meat make up the majority of it although there are more decadent items.

I wince, this year the backpacks are too close to be able to swoop in and flee. That has been the strategy of the upper middle-class Districts; Districts Three, Five and Seven.

_Thirty eight seconds. _

I look behind me and see that there is a bright, superficially green forest. The undergrowth will provide a suitable place to hide. I assume the Capitol have learned from their 'mistake' two years ago. The Games only ended up lasting four days and ended with District Four's Ron Stafford winning after spearing the brutal soldier, Julius from District Two. Most of the tributes that year, including our tribute, Ohm died within the first two days after having fled the bloodbath and running either across the beach or the scrub land which enabled them to be easy targets for the lower Districts who once all of the middle and higher Districts had been eliminated turned on each other like a pack of wild coyotes.

I attempt to clear my head and turn back to the forest, analysing it in more detail. I notice that the trees are different, they are larger and are so green it almost makes my eyes hurt. I can't help but make a comparison between these trees and the ones at home. These giant, superficial monoliths compared to the few trees back in our District that are withered and grey due to the little amount of rain that falls.

_Home._

If I close my eyes I can almost trick myself into believing I'm still there. I can picture the dry city which in the morning is almost full to the brim with workers clad in dark blue uniforms. I can just pretend that I can still help Eireen with her homework and then watching the Games with pity, as our tributes die on the first day.

I let out a cracked sigh and tighten my jaw muscles, looking to my left and to my right. The male tributes from Districts Nine and Seven are already into position, ready to run to the cornucopia as soon as the time runs out.

My eyes immediately flicker towards the countdown, and my eyes widen at how much time I have lost because I was reminiscing.

_Seven seconds. _

I turn my back to the cornucopia and on the soon to be bloodbath. I fix my eyes on the forest and look back one last time at the cornucopia, my eyes falling on the weapons as my resolve strengthens.

_Run to the forest. Run, and then you have a head start. Run, Masie. Run._

I am not watching the countdown when it reaches zero, I have already turned back to the forest.

My feet start to move automatically as the others begin to sprint towards the cornucopia. They start slow and sluggish at first but begin to pick up speed as soon as the first cries of pain can be heard.

It takes me several more seconds to reach the forest and I dart into the undergrowth not looking back once as the screams become quieter and eventually stop altogether.

_Is it over?_

I'm not sure, but I keep running. My heart feels like it is about to burst out of my rib cage and my breath is becoming more shallow. Still I push myself further. Soon I can hear nothing but my breath and the blood pounding in my ears.

I manage to continue for five minutes before coming to a stop, gasping for breath as I lean against a tree. The bark scratches my back through my clothing, but I am too exhausted to take notice of it.

My body is covered in sweat by now and the humid air is clinging more to the back of my now parched throat.

_I need water._

After several minutes I push myself away from the tree and begin to study my surroundings making sure to stay alert while I do so.

The trees seem to be larger now that I am in the forest, their trunks are as thick as two fully grown men and they tower up into the sky, reminding me of the ten story buildings at home. These trees have few or no branches lower to the ground meaning that for a novice climber like me there is no chance of spending the Games hiding in them. Although they would provide excellent cover as the higher up you go the less sparse the branches are.

I am ripped from my musings as I hear the first cannon booms, signalling the end of the bloodbath. The cannons echo throughout the arena and the effect appears to be heightened by the large amount of trees.

Eleven.

Almost half of my competitors gone in the first thirty minutes: the alliance from One, Two and sometimes Four must be stronger than usual this year. I force myself to remember the main competition's scores, Cotton, the physically imposing and breathtakingly handsome tribute from District One who gained a score of nine and Margret the tall amazonian warrior from District Four who earned herself a score of eight. Though I do have a slight advantage: after watching them during training I am aware of their weaknesses.

I begin to walk around the arena looking for signs of water or edible food and recite to myself all the strengths and weaknesses of the tributes who I feel showed the most promise in training..

The District One pair, Cotton and Orchid: Cotton favours his left arm to throw his spear with pinpoint accuracy. His right arm, while still able to hit the target is more sloppy and doesn't seem to pack quite so much raw power. Orchid prizes herself on her exceptional aim with throwing knives which means that if one of the stockier tributes, such as the males from District Seven and Eight caught her in a close range situation she would struggle to take them down.

I make a sharp turn to my left as I review District Two's tributes. The boy, who's name I think begins with a G proved to be dangerous with a broadsword managing to slash the training dummies without even breaking a sweat. He however did prove to be less than satisfactory with the survival skills station. His District partner, Euryale had the same proficiency and weaknesses.

As I begin to recite to myself Margret's weaknesses I begin to walk down a steep incline. I quicken my pace as in the training center we were instructed that water flows downhill, if I can find water then I have found myself a drinking source and the only thing I have to worry about is the other tributes and a method of gaining food.

The last thought worries me, I remember Tanya from District Six last year having fought her way through the cornucopia and safely escaping with her life. Having ran into all that danger just to survive she succumbed to starvation a mere six days later.

With Tanya's demise in mind I keep my eyes pealed for edible berries, roots and small game as I trudge down the increasingly steep slope. I move quickly, ever aware that the career tributes are most likely scouring the arena for the few tributes who have survived the cornucopia.

_Boom!_

I move faster, arching my neck just in time to see the hover craft fly past me then stop at least two hundred feet to my right. I let out a shaky breath and begin to jog hurriedly downhill, attempting to make my footsteps as light as I possibly can.

It doesn't seem to work though: as I run all I can hear is _'snap'_ and the odd _'crack'_ as I scramble over the seemingly dried fallen leaves and branches.

It doesn't process to me that the ground is becoming soggier until there is a roaring of a fast paced river in my ear. Looking up, I find that it's situated only several feet in front of me.

I let out a cry of relief and then dash towards it, crouching down and collecting as much water as I can in my hands and bringing them towards my face. I slurp at the water greedily, glugging it down as fast as I can and then digging my hands in for more.

I continue like this for several minutes, and then get to my feet, searching the forest around me warily and then stepping into its safety once again.

I don't stray far from the river, always making sure I can hear the quietened roar of the flowing water in my ear as I search for an edible food source.

Letting out a sigh of relief I come across what I believe to be a blackberry bush, and take a handful of them which I then place carefully into my coat pocket, deciding to save them for later.

I move towards the river once more, succeeding now in being much more nimble than I was not ten minutes ago. Although, at that time I did think Euryale or Cotton were going to jump out and slaughter me at any moment.

When I reach the river again, I hurriedly sprint towards it and scoop up another few precious handfuls of water. Then, I move back into the forest in order to find somewhere to hide for the night.

After several minutes, still listening out for the river which is effectively my life source right now I surprisingly come across a tree with branches low enough down and close enough together for me to pull myself up with. It won't offer much in the way of camouflage in the day time, but it shall suffice for the night.

It takes me around half an hour to reach a sufficient height and to find thick enough branch for me to sleep on without falling down.

I decide not to sleep for the time being, but to wait for the Capitol's seal to appear in the sky and see the faces of the dead tributes.

Now that I'm no longer fearing that my life will end this very minute I realize how uncomfortable I am.

Sweat from today's exertion clings to my clothing, making them damp and adding to the feeling that I am soaked. The humidity of the air is also something I had mercifully forgotten as I was fleeing.

Now that I'm waiting for the announcement it all becomes so much more noticeable. If I had to compare it to a feeling I would compare it to when you had an irresistible itch and couldn't itch it.

In an effort to distract myself I remove several berries from my pocket and peer at the glistening fruits searchingly, double checking that they are indeed safe.

Happy that they are I place one into my mouth and slowly chew it. The juices fill my mouth and for several seconds offer me a respite from the blistering heat and the wetness of my clothes. It reminds me of home: every second Friday daddy would come home with a small bag of blackberries which we would then share around the family home.

It was a family occasion, my whole family would all huddle next to each other and talk as they handed around the berries.

Panem's anthem disrupts me from my musings, and I turn my gaze towards the sky as the seal appears.

The first face in the sky is the girl from District Three which is quickly followed by her male counterpart. The face of my District partner, Darin shows next and I blink quickly to not show any weakness. No doubt they are screening our reactions live on the television at home. Besides, despite it sounding callous he would have perished either way. It was better it was quick and only hurt for a little while compared to Tesla who was pecked to death by a collection of birds.

The next faces follow in quick succession: both from Six and Seven, the girl from Nine as well as both of the tributes from Ten and Twelve.

I fall asleep while reciting the rest of the tribute's weaknesses in my head: Margret and her District counterpart were effective with a trident, however lacked survival skills. The boys from Eight and Nine had brute strength so would win in a close up confrontation but lacked long ranged weapon skills. The tributes from Eleven have excellent knowledge of edible foodstuffs however lacked the superior weapons skills that the careers have.

The sound of bird calls awakens me from my slumber, my clothes are sticking to my body with sweat and my hair is clumped against my face. I take several minutes attempting to tame my hair, brushing my fingers through it in a poor imitation of a hairbrush.

I maneuver myself to climb down the tree I was in, mindful not to squish my precious blackberries in my pocket.

My descent lasts around forty minutes. It is slower than usual because I am increasingly paranoid of the other tributes and the tree doesn't offer much camouflage. As I climb down it comes to my attention that out of all the other tributes I have the worst odd on winning. While they televised the scores they showed that the careers all have between 1-4 and 1-8 odds on winning. The boy from District Eight had 1-15 and the boy from District Nine had 1-25. Both of the tributes from Eleven managed to get odds of around 1-30. This is in comparison to my tragic odds of 1-45. The other tributes scores I seem to have forgotten, showing that they are most likely not a threat.

After I have reached the bottom of the tree I take the rest of the blackberries out of my pocket and force them into my mouth greedily.

Starting to chew slowly so I can savour them I begin to walk in the direction of the river, mindful to keep my footsteps quiet and to look around me every several seconds or so.

It doesn't take long to hear the thunderous roar of the river as powerful as it was the night before. I reach the clearing it is in, look around nervously and then sprint down the small slope towards the river, scooping up some of its precious water.

I continue this for several minutes before slowly wading into the river, the waters chill causing me to gasp half way through putting my left foot into the water.

Biting my lip, I continue into the water.

It doesn't take long until I have the water up to my knees, and once there I bend my knees so that I can begin to wash myself fully.

I wash myself as fast as I can, keeping a watchful eye on the clearing surrounding me.

I attempt to wash myself still wearing my clothes, so that if I am caught unawares I am able to flee quickly into the forest and not have to worry about retrieving my clothes. As the trainer in the training centre said 'exposure can kill as quickly as a knife'.

It takes ten minutes to scrub off last night's grime and sweat and when I'm finished I run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to rid it of its knots. As usual I am unsuccessful. I let out a grunt of frustration and then move towards the river's bank where I then pull myself up.

Hesitating only to look around for my fellow tributes I flee in the direction of where I came from and then take a right.

Staying in the same place during the games guarantee you only one thing: a spear embedded in your chest. With this in mind I look for another place to spend the night in, the majority of the trees in the arena however seem to have little to no branches lower down, making it impossible for me to climb up.

I can no longer hear the roar of the river, so I assume that I have moved a fair distance away. I chew my lip thoughtfully and look around the ground level, looking for some edible plants like the blackberries I had foolishly devoured earlier.

_Stupid girl._

After around half an hour of looking, I am beginning to lose focus at the task at hand. It is only when a particularly loud _'snap' _can be heard from around ten feet to my left that I am torn from my musings.

I automatically turn towards the sound, my eyes wide with fear.

The boy from District Eight is stood there and he is wielding a branch that he has managed to fasten into some sort of rudimentary javelin, it is shaped almost exactly like the ones that were on offer during the training period.

His face appears to be as surprised as mine with his mouth opened and his eyebrows shot up in a way that I'm sure if I was in any other situation I would find comical.

Instead of laughing I turn my body in the opposite direction and run in a diagonal line, twisting and diving under the occasional tree branch whilest whipping my head around to see if he is bearing down on me.

He is.

I can hear his heavy breathing behind me, loud in my ear as I sprint as fast as I can through the undergrowth. My muscles are screaming in protest and my mouth feels like it is on fire, I let out a raspy cry of fear and look around me one more time.

That was my mistake.

I had been focused on behind me, meaning I hadn't seen the branch jutting up.

It snags on the hem of my trousers as it trips me, sending me sprawling onto the ground.

Scrambling, I attempt to get up once again however I'm winded and my muscles are too sore from exertion.

I get to my feet just as the javelin plunges into my cranium and embeds itself deep into my cerebellum.

_Boom._


End file.
